Blood Between Friends
by Taotatum
Summary: Sometimes, insanity runs deep enough in someone that they might seem perfectly normal for years after they've actually snapped. 1x4, 2x4 hints, violence, mentions of yaoi. Please RR.
1. Chapter One

((Quick Notes -- This story was written as a contest entry for something my friend was running, a line contest. The contest is over, so it's going up here. My own Duo in most stories, is not a raving lunatic, so I apologize in advance for that. In this story, it just worked. Also, Heero is slightly bastardized. I know he's not like that, and I apologize for that too. Anyways, this is the first of what will eventually be a trilogy.))

-----

Sometimes, insanity runs deep enough in someone that they might seem perfectly normal for years after they've actually snapped. They might go on smiling and laughing, or doing their usual pranks that always marked them as themselves in your mind, but in actuality, the person you knew is buried beneath an ever shifting tide of chaos and disillusionment. Sometimes, you never know until it's far too late and that new person is cutting his way into the world as though born a second time.  
  
-----  
  
In front of him the glowing screen beeped irritably at his commands, trying to process them as loyally as ever but unable because of a single typo. It was that damned stray letter in the middle of his data that caused that little gray box to pop up and rudely inform him it couldn't be done, and that error, he knew for a fact, was because of the loud laughter and questionable sounds in the next room.  
  
"Duo!! Knock it off!" Then a stream of giggles that could only belong to the blonde of their group.  
  
Quatre Winner, the little fighting prince who'd joined the battle in spite of his family's wishes. Distaste had been his original emotion upon meeting the delicate boy who didn't seem to belong in battle, as though he'd fall and burst into tears at the shock of being hurt and not caught by loving arms. That had eventually shifted to a grudging respect when his leadership skills came into view, and then to something… Else, when he'd been forced to exist around the bubbling male. It was infectious, that happiness and attitude towards life. It was a little like having jumper cables attached to your brain that occasionally fried you and forced you to accept that you were still alive, and could still derive pleasure from even the little things.  
  
It was that living high that had gotten him into this mess of a 'relationship'. Truthfully, it was a co-dependant addiction on both their parts, a fact that infected him at various times of the day and made both bile flood into his mouth and the bitter taste of a pride so strong it was numbing. What they had was spawned out of an emotional slip-up that occurred one night when he'd been caught at their tiny little house alone with the Arabian, the others out for movies and pizzas while he had work to do and Quatre was too sick to join them.  
  
He'd looked up to see him emerge from the hall wrapped in a blanket and sniffling, heading to the couch where he sat and typed away. Maybe he should have snapped at him to go back into his room then, but he hadn't. Interest in that strong yet weak person and in that so-alive boy had made him keep his mouth shut.  
  
Later that night, the others had returned to find Quatre curled up with tussled blonde head rest on his lap, and with him petting that sweaty brow with absent fondness as he continued his work in the dark with one hand.  
  
If one of them had thought to ask them, or had shown even any real shock, it might have ended there. No one did though. Trowa raised an eyebrow at the scene, then turned and started down the hall to his room without a word. Wufei just snorted and moved into the kitchen with his leftovers. And although Duo had grinned sharkishly to him, even he had bounced quickly off to the back of the house without his normal jibbing.  
  
So they had fallen into a mutually comfortable situation because of those earlier dazed conversations in the absence of the others.  
  
It was his fault too, he could accept that, because he hadn't exactly minded when that boy came bounding up to him some days and boldly smiled at him before he wrapped his arms around his waist. Quatre was content to just linger there and cuddle in, letting him do what needed to be done. Quatre's day was made when he'd happen to pause long enough to pet those coin bright locks, or when he'd managed a small smile in his general direction, that was clear in the way those large blue/green eyes lit up. He'd encouraged that bond, and it was only so long before they were sitting together with the others watching movies and that little hand would seek his out, wrapping his thin fingers through his and giving him that special little curve of his lips which was -just- for him. Even when he knew it was a crazy thing to let himself get used to, those expressions were enough of a drug to keep his mouth shut.  
  
_Because… Well, all because someone was doing that for -me-._  
  
He wasn't standing in the background watching people exist around him and feeling alienated by his lack of understanding. He was part of it; those soft touches and smiles were a gateway. Perhaps he could exist without it now that he knew how, but he wasn't really sure and that kept him from taking the risk… Even when, as right now, the blonde made his hand itch to strike something in irritation.  
  
That was life too though. Sometimes he just couldn't stand the contact, and he wouldn't be able to keep from lashing out when that pale teen came skipping up to him. The first time he'd struck Quatre, he'd felt his heart stop. He expected tears. Or a series of shrill yelling and indignation. He'd expected a 'Fuck you, I don't need this'. What he got was Quatre looking up at him blankly for a moment with his hand pressed over his already swelling cheek and eyes shimmering with more emotion than he knew he'd ever experience in his whole life… Then a tiny smile of understanding.  
  
He'd still been standing there in cold, paralyzing surprise at his actions when Quatre murmured an apology, then turned and wandered away. The next day, he'd been back again with his arms ready to sink into their spot around his waist, and that was okay.  
  
It was all so easy to fall into.  
  
He was allowed those moments of fury, and they weren't questioned. Quatre came to him and still had smiles. He had had those nasty looks from Trowa once when the green-eyed pilot had seen the swelling purple of his friend's cheek, and nearly got in a fight with Duo when the braided boy had suddenly been in his face and near spitting with anger, but those blew over. With a little nudge from the Arabian, of course.  
  
Those memories weren't the problem right now though. The noise was.  
  
-----  
  
"Ack! Duo! Don't touch me there, you dork!"  
  
"Oh, damned Kitten! Haven't you heard of a tan before? Look at that stomach! Talk about your ghostly encounters!" An odd sound of wet bubbling followed this statement, and then Quatre was wailing and gasping laughter again.  
  
He let out a low growl and shoved himself away from the desk and from the blipping monitor, turning towards the open door that would lead to the living room and stalking through it.  
  
The scene he entered was a bit like a tornado's wake. The TV directly across from him was showing snowing static and crackling in complaint. Between it and the couch (which was scattered with pillows and blankets) lay one knocked over bowl of popcorn, three empty soda cans -- one of which, he noted with growing irritation, was leaking some sticky purple substance onto the carpet -- a stack of Popsicle sticks, four different types of candy bar wrapping papers, half of a sub sandwich, a broken glass, and what he swore was the discarded remains of what had once been a fruit platter.  
  
Entwined in the middle of this disaster were his 'teammates'. Duo was perched over Quatre with the boy's shirt held up over his head by one hand bunched into it's hem, and the brunette was currently in the process of blowing air against the squirming skin of the other boy's stomach, causing a squawk of protest and several loud and rather rude sounds.  
  
Quatre managed to suck in a big breath of air, then promptly dispelled it in another wave of uncontrollable laughter and pants, hands scrambling over the padded floor for something to defend himself with. He managed to grab a hold of one corner of a dislodged couch pillow, and swung that at the back of Duo's head.  
  
"Knock that off! Duuo!! That tickles, you… You… You fluff muffin!"  
  
Between the force of that awkward blow pushing his face into the pale curves of Quatre's waist and then that ridiculous catcall, he had to draw back or risk choking on his own laughter.  
  
Duo raised his head with several snorted chuckles, and prepared to attack him anew with his hands raised and fingers wiggling in the dreaded 'I'm going to tickle you' threat, and that was when he decided he'd had enough. It wasn't the mess, or even the way their playful scene could be misinterpreted as friendly flirting, it was his being interrupted from his work.  
  
He opened his mouth and growled menacingly, tone low but cutting across the small room to them like a knife. "Will you two shut the fuck up?"  
  
The braided male jerked and looked up at him with wide eyes, violet depths flickering in what he was sure was guilt for one second before Quatre sat up too and sent him tumbling back onto his ass. It was the blonde's expression that drew his attention more anyways. He looked up from his spot on the floor with immediate regret and with a timid smile of greeting just barely moving over his lips.  
  
Despite the pang of damning emotion that shy gesture sparked within him, he had nothing but a cold scowl of indifference for the blonde today, and he was happy to see Quatre recognize that right off the bat and lower his gaze quickly to the floor between Duo's sprawled legs… Which were still irritatingly wrapped around the other boy in his opinion. "Sorry Heero. We'll keep it down now."  
  
Duo recovered quickly and sat up, mouth forming that shit-eating cheeky grin that annoyed him so much and tipping a hand in a mock salute at him. "Sorry 'bout that, buddy."  
  
Ignoring that comment, he looked long and hard at the bowed head of the blonde -- **his** blonde -- and swallowed dryly around his anger, half hoping for a reason to show them just how irate that little box popping up on his screen had made him and still somewhat glad they'd both just knocked it off.  
  
Silence reigned, and after a moment he just snorted and turned to go with a parting, "And clean up your mess too."  
  
"Yes, Heero."  
  
He'd expected that so-eager-to-please chirp from the Arabian. Anything to bring the peace back to them. He didn't have any idea what to think of the softly muttered comment from Duo though -- "Pah… You're just jealous because you want to be a fluffy muffin, too."  
  
_Jealous?_ Never mind the ridiculous nickname, _but **jealous**?  
_  
His feet came to a halt on that strange giving material, slowly turning him back to look to the other boys. Something in his expression made Quatre start fidgeting on the carpet (after a little push to Duo's shoulders he was happy to see at least), but the American was just smirking up to him like he always did.  
  
He was amazed to discover it was possible to speak when the inside of your mouth was numb with surprise. "Duo… Why would **I **be jealous of **you**? What have you got that I want?"  
  
Quatre might have missed the pool of pain that those violet orbs became, but he didn't. Aching victory made his lips curve up, just a little, as he looked straight at the young man who was already remasking his gaze. To give him credit though, if he hadn't have been watching his eyes, he wouldn't have known he'd struck sensitive ground either. It appeared as if Duo would be wise enough to bite his tongue for once, but of course he knew better and it was just a matter of waiting.  
  
He wasn't disappointed. Not exactly.  
  
"Yeah, you're right, buddy. Aside from my sexy body, great hair, smile that makes most girls' knees melt, good fashion sense -- spandex is out, by the way -- sense of humor, and the fact that I've got a hot blonde almost under me… Nothing I can think of that you should be jealous of."  
  
His jaw tightened at that response, though more in being caught off guard than in anger. Quatre's was another story though. He watched those candy pink lips fall apart with a hiss, then the small pilot turned towards Duo and laid one hand over his arm, fingers sinking into the long black sleeve of Duo's shirt nervously. His demanding tone was barely audible, but he caught it. "Duo! For… For Allah's sake! Be quiet!"  
  
_Dead men can't talk, so I think that won't be a problem too much longer.  
_  
Before he could start forward to forcefully wipe that expression from Duo's face, the other boy had shaken Quatre's hand off and risen to his feet. He gave Heero a considering look of disinterest, something that made that strange bitter taste flood his mouth again and his mind blur with fury, then he turned and made his way calmly to the doors and with a flip of his braid, walked out onto the small lawn.  
  
At first Quatre and he both just watched Duo's disappearing back with his hanging braid swishing over his legs like a cat tail, then he saw the blonde sigh out of the corner of his eye (either in relief, he thought, or in annoyance) turn and begin picking up the spilled pieces of popcorn.  
  
The noise had stopped, the mess would be handled, and he felt that was enough. For now. Whatever else could be dealt with later; his main goal was to deal with that little gray box that had had the nerve to inform him, even timidly as most mechanical things did, that he was wrong.  
  
-----  
  
That evening found Heero in better spirits. Work had cleared up after that little interruption and he'd gotten done early. As usual, the minor relief of finishing another task in his typical efficient manner had brightened his outlook considerably. It didn't hurt that it had been accomplished with a comfortable quiet over their small shared house. He vaguely remember Quatre in the kitchen washing something or another by the sound of it, but of the others there had really been no sign. It was only later when Wufei emerged from his own rooms that Heero had made the connection he'd be meditating or training. Trowa was harder to place, and until the lanky teen had come strolling in with bags tucked under his arms, he hadn't been aware he wasn't even home all day. Duo had found something to do as well apparently, because after that confrontation (the memory of his grin brought back a flicker of dull anger he choose to deny right now) he had seen nothing of him.  
  
By the time dinner rolled around, he had more or less dismissed that aggravation from earlier.  
  
-----  
  
Quatre was standing in front of the stove stirring some white concoction in a pot, wearing an absent smile as he always did and also sporting the joke apron Duo had bought him earlier in the year for Christmas. It stated simply in red lettering on the white - 'If you want to complain about the food, you have no right to complain about the 'stray sparks' it produces. If you weren't so stupid, I wouldn't have to light you on fire so often.' Duo had seen it and said he had had to get it for the blonde. Perhaps it was a friendly revengeful for the time the braided boy had snuck in and decided that Quatre's recipe for double chocolate cake had needed some vodka. It was easy to taste (once it was too late of course and the whole mess had been cooked and presented to the others), and Duo had spent a week rubbing at a wooden spoon shaped bruise on the center of his forehead and whining to anyone that would listen. Quatre had accepted that gift with a raised eye but a thank you nonetheless, and they all accepted that when someone was in the kitchen it was best to keep opinions and suggestions to themselves.  
  
Heero thought the apron was ridiculous and thought the blonde looked like some sad joke of a housewife in it, but when he came into the combination kitchen/dining room that evening he didn't feel the need to bring that point up again. He'd skipped lunch and whatever was being made for dinner, by now they all accepted that unless it was mentioned before it would be for all of them, smelled good enough to encourage him to deal with the strange garb of the temporary cook.  
  
Sinking into his more or less assigned seat at the round wooden table they'd pushed against one wall of the white kitchen, he had to admit one thing he didn't necessarily mind about Duo's little present.  
  
In his current state of almost relaxed neutrality, he wasn't adverse to noticing the way that the bow formed in the apron's ties was right above the round bubble of the blonde's behind. It drew Quatre's loose shirt tight around his delicate waist and seemed to frame that part of his anatomy rather like a work of art.  
  
It wasn't often that Heero looked at the boy who had wormed his way into schedule as more than an emotional pacifier and a connection to the way people normally were, but sometimes that other end of what had become 'their relationship' slipped forwards and he'd learned to work with it rather than deny it. Quatre had shown himself to be willing and accepting to such advances. When such an urge did strike him, it always reminded him a little of some of the drugs he'd been trained with or attacked with during their many battles. There was that sharp stab, usually in his lower stomach with this situation, then it spread from there in a low, throbbing heat. With the drugs, he felt whatever poison had been injected into his body seep through his veins and into his organs like cold fingers. With what he deduced were really just teenage hormones, it was remarkably similar, but this particular influence in his bloodstream only seemed to flow as high as his heart to increase it's beats per minute, and then as low as his genitals.  
  
He was sure Duo would have a less scientific but more publicly accepted way to put it, but the general results were the same.  
  
After getting used to first the fact that he was affected occasionally by the sight of bare skin, or in this case of the stranger things like Quatre's hair shining against the skin of his hand when he pet it and the way the blonde's shirt pulled up in the back to reveal a strip of pale flesh when he reached for one of the pans kept above the stove like he was now, the next thing had been deciding with what to -do- with such results. It had taken a week of uncomfortable snapping at everyone and some late night research to come to any conclusion. From there, things had clicked nicely.  
  
That new twist to his association with the Arabian had made him more aware of the addictive affect Quatre's company had on him, but it also made it more acceptable in his mind. It was a healthy thing. It was -normal-.  
  
That was more standing against his simple dismissal of whatever it was they had, but it was more reason why he shouldn't want that anyway and why people would think it was alright that he wasn't disturbed by it.  
  
So there wasn't too much mental arguing or justification needed when the brunette lifted himself out of the cheap metal and hard plastic chair and slowly moved towards the man stirring their dinner.  
  
If Quatre had turned around then he would likely have been reminded of a scene from some nature show. One of those ones that always seemed available to the poor bored television viewer with an itchy clicker finger and seem to be constantly playing the scene of some naive antelope grazing innocently in the tall grass, completely unaware of the large predatory feline advancing with bloodlust and satisfaction already burning in it's senselessly violent eyes.  
  
He also might have been aware that this particular take on the 'life cycle of the Serengeti' had another unexpected twist. A hunter perhaps, leaning on the nearby scruffy bark of a tree with his gun glinting coldly like a chip of mica in the dying light of the sun over the golden foliage… Or in this case, just the frowning silhouette of a young man in black.  
  
Heero crept his way to directly behind the smaller pilot, then straightened himself up and slid his arms around that framed waist.  
  
Jerking upright, the oversized spoon that had been in the youth's hand rattled against the lip of the pan and came up fast enough to discharge several whitish drops over the previously clean counter top and over the front of the stove. The ones that landed upon the heated metal quickly turned into a more solid color; congealed was the unsavory term that immediately came to mind, then browned around the edges warningly, the cooked scent of alcohol rising up.  
  
Not that he was paying attention to the mess. It could be cleaned later, and he would have bet that either Wufei or Quatre would have the stove shining again before the next sun-up. His mind was more focused on the delicate curve of the blonde's cheek as Quatre's head turned to the side to look at his would-be attacker with wide eyes.  
  
"O-oh, Heero. You startled me!" Quickly, lips that had been parted in his unsettled state quirked up into a sweet smile. His smile. Leaning backwards into the embrace, he added gently- "Dinner won't be ready for another twenty minutes at least. I still have to boil the water and put the noodles in… And the sauce isn't thick enough. Would you like me to come get you?"  
  
_Noodles…?_ Well, at least that made him feel better about whatever was in the pan making unhappy bubbling sounds, but hunger wasn't his concern right now. He shifted and pressed the budding hardness of his current emotional mind frame against the perfectly displayed bottom he'd been watching moments before, then lowered his head and mouthed softly at the satiny skin just beneath the feathered strands of blonde on the back of the blonde's neck.  
  
His intentions were clear enough to him, black and white, but the Arabian was having a little trouble processing it. He stiffened in that embrace and stared with wide, unblinking eyes at the refrigerator a few feet away, one hand still expectantly holding the spoon up over his creation and the other frozen a few inches above Heero's intertwined appendages, where it had originally settled to soothe his frayed nerves.  
  
Then something must have clicked because Quatre let out a tiny laugh and squirmed within the circle of his arms. His free hand came up to rest lightly upon Heero's shoulder, and after a brief nuzzle of his cheek against the other boy's (humoring, was the unbelievable thought that came to Heero's mind), he started to push out of that embrace with the explanation- "Heero, I'm cooking."  
  
As if what was in that pot was more important.  
  
He ducked his head down and nipped at the side of that ivory throat with a little growl, pulling the smaller boy against him once more by his encircling grip. "I don't care."  
  
Silence reigned for a moment as Quatre went still from the dismissal and from the touches, considering. Not that that would last. He gave another soft laugh, then pushed gently with his hand. "No, Heero. I really need to tend to the sauce or it'll burn."  
  
_No?_ Dark eyes grew in size just barely, enough so that anyone who didn't know him never would have noticed, but Quatre did and gave him a tiny smile of apology that really did nothing to help matters. 'No' didn't shut a body down, and 'no' wouldn't get rid of the images in his head which had come once he'd decided he wanted the other boy.  
  
Aroused or not, Heero wouldn't have seriously considered pursuing the matter if Quatre really wasn't interested. Being too 'free' with his hands occasionally and forcing someone into being intimate were miles apart in his mind, whether most people would see it that way or not. However, the blonde hadn't said he didn't want to, and he hadn't shown that either; he had honestly just implied that he had something else to care for. It was just the pot of gunk that was bothering him, and with the hopes that maybe he could make the blonde see which was indeed the more important priority, Heero decided to proceed.  
  
Not lifting his mouth from Quatre's throat, he let one of the hands around the Arabian's waist slowly drop, coming to rest possessively over the swell of the boy's pert bottom, fingers curling and delivering an almost thoughtful squeeze of the flesh.  
  
Quatre's lips dropped open in a soft gasp, cheeks flaring rapidly with sparks of crimson color as he again went rigid against that other form.  
  
Now, if asked, the blonde would have likely had a difficult and stumbling time, but he would have said his reaction was a natural and not entirely displeased one. It was actually good to know he was worth Heero being persistent, better to know the other boy thought of him that way from time to time, and it was even sweetly spontaneous (not that he'd -ever- dirty up his kitchen like **that**) that it had started at all. He would have said all of that, and probably have admitted embarrassedly that he had been considering just turning off dinner since a few minutes wouldn't hurt anyone, and scampering off with his dark haired teammate.  
  
He wasn't asked though, and Duo didn't know those private thoughts; might not have believed them even if he had.  
  
What Duo saw was Heero take a step into that smaller, delicate body. He saw the brunette pressing again for affection, because -he- wanted some and didn't care what anyone else felt. The kiss to Quatre's neck reminded him of someone sneaking over a 'no trespassing' fence, and though he couldn't see where that hand landed finally, his sharp eyes had seen it move from this angle and that was desecration to the blonde's spoken wishes. The gasp that reached his ears and momentarily ran his blood as boiling ice in his veins was further evidence. With his own deep secret cravings and desires pushed aside, he was still so upset by the encounter that was building within the tiled and brightly lit room that his limbs were shaking.  
  
He was not about to watch his beautiful, smiling partner get manhandled, or worse, in the kitchen.  
  
Three jerky strides were all it took once he'd pushed himself off the door frame to reach Heero. It was hard to connect the hand that clamped down on the Japanese boy's shoulder as his own, but he felt the dim strain of muscles in his bicep as he whipped that body away from Quatre's and around to face him.  
  
There was the hellishly clear vision of honestly surprised cobalt blue eyes, then Duo's line of sight was obscured by the olive tinted fist that was mashing the front of those features.  
  
Heero had just enough time before that punch landed to consider the unbelievable truth. _He's going to hit me…?_ The pain that sparked out from his cheek was nothing but a dull roar, he'd dealt with much worse surely, but the shock lingered on and then morphed into confusion, and finally into building anger. Duo had hit him. He had **dared**, for whatever reason, to strike him.  
  
The blonde was somehow even more lost than his reluctant boyfriend. One moment Heero was in front of him, then he was gone. The motion that had pulled the Japanese boy away had brought Heero's arm whipping towards him, but he never mistook it as aimed for him. He took a graceful step back and the tips of those fingers missed the boy's button nose by a quarter of an inch.  
  
Quatre was still trying to process the sudden lack of another body's warmth when Duo spoke up and befuddlement grew deeper.  
  
"He said -NO-, you asshole! Now back off!"  
  
That insult dimmed his fury momentarily rather than fueled it. It was having Duo's enraged face so close and hearing those words as the boy was still vibrating with the clear desire to want to fight that made him consider. For now, he managed to keep his fists in tight balls by his side, monotone nearly a growl as he gave the braided male a chance to explain himself. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"You! I'm talking about you, dickmeat! Quatre said no, and like you always do, you decided his wants don't matter and went ahead with your own damned business!"  
  
At his name, the 'damsel in distress' in this situation peered around Heero's shoulder cautiously, his mouth partially opened at that answer. _I did not just hear that. It's just a joke… Right?  
_  
Heero had heard it though, judging by the tick under his left eye. Taking a step forward, he straightened up and gave the other male a warning scowl. That Duo was accusing him of something really didn't matter. It was untrue and he knew it. That Duo had struck him was now only a side problem. What did bother him was that the American was putting his nose where it definitely didn't belong; he was forcing issues to the surface of that polluted inner well that Heero didn't want to work through yet. If he had denied those insinuations or just stepped back, that likely would have been the end of it. A combination of pride, teenage stubbornness, and residual emotion prevented that.  
  
One side of his mouth curled up in a sneer, "I think he -is- my business, Maxwell. Whatever we do, you really don't need to get involved, do you? You aren't his brother, you certainly aren't dating him, and he's a gundam pilot just like you. If he doesn't want to do something, he'll try to stop it on his own."  
  
"That's not the fucking point and you know it!" Duo's eyes flickered briefly over to the pale moon of Quatre's worried face, then back to Heero's, narrowing. "He's my -friend-, though. And sometimes friends need help. In this circumstance, I'd say that applies. I'm not about to just stand back twiddling my thumbs while you do this! Maybe I can't always stop you when you act like a jerk and hit him -- And what is that about, Heero? Feeling the urge to show you're some kind of mighty man? -- but I will step in before you end up banging him against a wall here just to get your kicks!"  
  
That did it.  
  
"I'm going to kill you, Maxwell." So saying, Heero took a jerky step forward and raised his hands, thinking how nice they'd look around the thin column of Duo's throat as they choked the life out of him.  
  
As if he'd expecting it, and he was, the brunette flashed him a vulpine smirk and hopped away, then brought a hand up and slapped the side of Heero's head almost playfully. The sound was loud in the stillness of potential violence that had settled over the room, and it drew another gasp from the blonde who was playing silent witness to the insanity that had taken over his usually docile roommates.  
  
"C'mon, Yuy. Whatsa matter? You can't deal with people that hit back?" He spoke that with a hint of good nature so unfitting of the situation that Quatre felt shivers run down his spine like cold fingers.

His own paralysis broke and he stepped slightly to the side, meaning to come between the two and break this up before Heero really did decide to kill his friend.  
  
The motion drew the Japanese male's attention, and without looking over, he struck a hand out. For once it wasn't the absent intent to harm the blonde and get him away from himself, but rather to get him out of the way. He wanted to finish this.  
  
The blow struck him soundly in the chest and Quatre felt himself thrown backwards effortlessly. His middle back struck the hard lip of the counter and the air whooshed out of him in a low moan. One of his arms which were as controlled as a rag doll in that second struck the small stack of plates that he had set aside from their dinner, and after a futile war of tottering on the edge, the glassware surrendered and tumbled onto the linoleum in a shriek of shattering items. He faired better than them and caught himself with shaky hands, holding his body up as he wheezed in the first painful breath.  
  
It was that suffering sound that brought Duo another wave of anger, _oh Quatre, I'm sorry_, and he lashed out again, this time catching Heero on the cheek with a pistol-like report of flesh on flesh. He barely got his hand back before the other pilot had brought his own up to catch him, but it was another escape.  
  
"You ought to be in a cage at the zoo, Heero! Locked up because you're a threat to the city." He hit the wall beside the door with one hip hard enough to bruise, but ignored the throbbing as he ducked to the side to avoid a silent lunge from the still blank-faced brunette. "Or maybe just kept in a fighting ring. They could chuck meat at you and charge people to watch you take on innocent competitors. Maybe we wouldn't know when you were unhappy with that new life, or didn't feel well, since you show absolutely no connection with humankind, you mechanical pile of shit, but at least we'd know when you were horny; you'd go around ripping peoples' heads off! We could follow the trail of mauled and molested bodies to wherever you finally curled up to jack off!"  
  
"Duo!" He managed to gather enough air into his wailing lungs to blurt that, still clinging to the counter. "Stop it!"  
  
And miraculously, the brunette did. He had been bobbing beside the door with his wild eyes trained on Heero's advancing form, but at the cry from Quatre, he looked in that direction and some damnable light within the pools of purple went out. He opened his mouth to apologize to his friend, and was silenced as the not-to-be-forgotten Heero's hands at last clamped around their target.  
  
_No. This can't be happening._ But it was. He was standing here in the kitchen where he'd been preparing a nice dinner for everyone just a few minutes ago. He was holding himself up on the counter because he wasn't sure his legs would support him yet, and his feet were encircled by accusing shards of plates that had been brought down ten minutes before when he'd been -- god forbid -- humming absently to himself and just feeling generally good. He was feeling his stomach cramp in worry and pain as though to hold the contents of his long-ago lunch down was suddenly too much for it. And he was watching his boyfriend choke his best friend.  
  
"Heero NO! Leave him alone! P-please!? Don't hurt him!!"  
  
There was no reaction in the rigid shoulders of Heero, and after a second, Quatre found he could walk. He took a wobbly step away from the pile of plate fragments and the safety grip he had on the counter, and then he was running across the small distance of the kitchen and pouncing onto the brunette's back. It was something he'd thought about doing for fun but had never dared to do, something cute and affectionate, but now in his terror it was perfectly rational.  
  
Little arms locked around the under shelf of Heero's jaw and jerked upwards even as slim legs were winding over and through his. That grip brought black blossoming stars dancing into the sides of his vision, but there in the center of the maelstrom was still Duo's face. The brunette's fingers tightened around the resisting surface of his neck.  
  
Even in the reddened fog of pain brought on by oxygen being prevented to his brain, Duo saw the other boy appear over Heero's shoulder, and he tried to smile at him. _Hey. What da ya know…_  
  
That smile just looked like denial to Heero and he gave another growl as he kept the pressure. Above his hands Duo's face had gone from being an angry shade of red to tinges of purple around the edges.  
  
Quatre saw the smile, and he thought it looked resigned. If Duo gave up now, he wasn't sure anything he did would help. He couldn't allow that. They could hate him or whatever later, but for now this fight (which he still didn't entirely understand), had gone on long enough.  
  
He lifted the arms under Heero's throat sharply, pressing into the muscles and cutting of air and thought in one blow. At the same time, he gave the leg he'd weaseled between Heero's a twist and forced the other boy's knee to bend. Almost instantly they were tumbling to the hard tiles.  
  
Being on Heero's back, he was the first to hit and several storms of fresh pain shuddered through his body, the elbows that caught some of his weight and the back of his head as it bounced off the floor were the worst, but none of those mattered when he heard the forced gasp from above as Duo drew air. Heero's weight was added to his own a second later and his own finally regained regularity in breathing went right out the window.  
  
The room started to swim with darkness threateningly, but Quatre bit the inside of his cheek and the light on the ceiling came back into sharpened focus quickly.  
  
This was at the same time that Duo's own violet orbs were clearing. His gaze lowered and he could see the pile of tangled limbs that were his best friend and at the moment, his worst enemy. Quatre was beneath Heero and for a second he was convinced that he'd been right and the brunette had decided to continue what he'd interrupted, then he noticed the closed but fluttering eyelids and understood. Heero was unconscious.  
  
For now.  
  
He edged away from the wall with one hand still using it's surface to stand upright, then tried to whisper to the messy blonde head beneath Heero's left shoulder. The first attempt emerged as harsh coughs with the metallic tang of blood as a fun throw in. Once he had that fit under control, the second did better, though it's scratching tone still sadly reminded him of a rusty door being opened. "Quat? You okay?"  
  
Silence. Then the rustling of cloth and a pair of blue green eyes were peering over that lack body. "Y-yes. I think so. Are you all right? Do you need any help?"  
  
"Nah. I'll live." The blonde was fine. He would have said he could live through **anything** after hearing that. He took another second to regain his balance and to swallow another particularly tasty clump of that blood taste, then stepped away from the wall and towards the crumpled boys. "Hold still, kay? I'll push him up and you squeeze out from under him. How long'll he be out?"  
  
"Okay." Quatre blinked, then one pale hand emerged from the jumble and came up to lightly touch Heero's cheek. There was concerned fondness in the gesture that Duo choose to ignore. "I don't know. Wufei taught me that. It's not dangerous and doesn't really hurt anyone. It's supposed to last about an hour on regular people, time flexible to their recovery rate… So, with Heero, maybe we have fifteen minutes."  
  
"So, get going while the getting is good in other words." He rolled his eyes, then bent and after another wave of dizziness, placed his hands under Heero's side in order to start lifting him. Through several grunts and a lot of effort, it was accomplished. "Geeze. I've heard muscle is heavier than fat, but this is ridiculous!"  
  
As soon as Heero's body had been rolled to the side, Quatre had scooted out from under him, then turned to catch the unconscious boy's shoulder and ease him back down, careful of his head especially. Even then, Duo looked away as he soothed the wild bangs over Heero's forehead before standing up beside him.  
  
By the time he glanced back, it was easy to see the fright and mild anger that had been on Quatre's features beginning to melt into worry. After all that, Duo was witnessing the cogs in Quatre's mind turn as he stared guilty down to the 'peacefully slumbering' brunette.  
  
Before his friend could convince himself to pull out a chair and sit around for the beast to wake up and likely beat him into a bloody pulp, Duo stepped forward and gently reached down to capture one pale hand, giving it a comforting and hopefully interrupting squeeze. "He'll be fine. Come on, let's get out of here. That way he can come to, and then without us right there in his face, maybe he'll have enough sense to cool himself down. You can talk to him later… And apologize too. I know you will, though trust me, Quat, you've got no reason to."  
  
His gaze lifted, startled, and the blonde smiled shyly as he nodded. "… You know me too well, Duo. All right, where to?"  
  
"You're my best friend." Something that vaguely resembled his usual rakish grin appeared as one hand crept up and lightly ruffled those pale, feathery locks. "And a cutie. Of course I pay attention to things involving you. And for now, my room. I need to change, and then I'm getting the hell out of here for a few hours. Either hitting a bar or a club, just to stay out of the heat… You should come to."  
  
It was a feeble effort, and he knew it was going to be rejected even before that 'my fault' light appeared in cerulean eyes and his little friend opened his mouth. "Oh. I couldn't, Duo. To just leave him like that. When he wakes up, I really do need to apologize and talk to him… And there's still dinner too."  
  
Duo blinked and looked over to the thickly bubbling and smoking pot, raising an eyebrow. "Sure. I get it. You need to stick around for Tweedle Violent to get up and assault you, and you need to be here to eat whatever the hell's in that pot. Is it supposed to smoke like that, Quatre?"  
  
"Duo! He wouldn't ever go that far! Heero's not so ba-" He caught onto the last part of the sentence and let out a mortified squeak as he witnessed the dark plumes rising from his meal creation to the white ceiling. "Oh… My sauce."  
  
There was something so miserable in that dull comment, like Quatre'd lost a relative, that Duo hid the grin it brought as he stepped over Heero and clicked the stove off , knowing otherwise Quatre would be in front of it within seconds and trying to fix that too. "Leave it. Take my advice, and just order in later, pizza or Chinese, Kitten. No one will mind."  
  
"It was supposed to be special though. I wanted us all sitting around the table and maybe talking…" He trailed off sadly as Duo took his hand again and started tugging him from the room, peeking over his shoulder to the calming pot again, then down to Heero's lax expression. "He's going to be angry."  
  
"Yup. He's likely going to forget about just clobbering us and go straight for his gun." He grinned almost manically as he led the reluctant blonde to the staircase and then up it. "Which is why I think you ought to just pack a back and run away with me, baby. I could work at some street side diner in a big city, you could play on the corner somewhere until a big shot noticed you. We'd always have food, I promise, and if the nights got cold, we'd have each other. By the time you got big there, I'd have my own diner so I could schedule myself to come watch all your shows and pretend you were playing just to me."  
  
They reached the top of the stairs, and Duo turned around to Quatre's flabbergasted face, grinning as he lifted that delicate hand to his lips and pressed a sweet kiss to the back of it. "What'dya say, Quatre? Run away with me?"  
  
He gaped at the long haired boy in silence, mouth open slightly and cheek alit with flustered color. Then a little laugh came, followed by several light giggles. Quatre stepped forward and threw his arms gently around Duo's waist, chuckling into his shoulder as he shook his head. "Duo, you're such a nut. 'Run away with me'? What have you been watching on TV lately?"  
  
Wrapped around the thin American as he was, Quatre never saw the flicker of sadness in those purple eyes, or the way Duo's lips trembled as though to hold the smirk on place on them for a second more was a Herculean task he could no longer manage. He brought his hand up and slowly dragged it over the down-soft hair at the back of the other male's head, cheating himself by taking the opportunity to lean forward and surround himself in that soft scent that was just Quatre's. _Cinnamon, and sugar. Or maybe vanilla. He always smells so sweet with just that tang of spice thrown in that makes you second guess. He smells like… Like coming home. Oh Heero, you lucky asshole. I hate you.  
_  
As it always did, his smile and cheerful tone came back quickly. He pressed a chaste kiss to the side of the Arabian's temple, then forced himself to step back. "Don't know, Quat. Probably fell asleep during the black and white movie night again."  
  
"We ought to get a timer on the TV. I'm always coming down in the morning to see you curled up there with it still going. We'd save a lot of electricity."  
  
"Yeah." _I wouldn't be sleeping down there if Heero's room weren't next to mine. If I didn't have to watch you calmly walk in there most nights. Is it wrong that I'm happy for the nights when you quickly come out, looking a little stung but still holding yourself together? … When you don't come out, and then I have to hear your voice…_ The nails of his free hand dug sharply into his palm, waking him from that despairing line of thought as he reached his door.  
  
Opening the portal and inviting Quatre in with an extravagant sweep of his arms, he continued to smile in the face of the blonde's wandering thoughts.  
  
"I'll look into getting one of those then. It certainly can't hurt anything, right?" As he move to step by, Duo suddenly found those dark cerulean eyes moving studiously over his face, then down to his neck (he was sure it looked like the fourth of July parade was playing on his skin by night) with a familiar expression of guilt and regret. "Are you sure you are going to be okay? That looks horrible, Duo. Perhaps you ought to just take a few pills and lay down for the night instead of going out."  
  
"And wait for the dreaded dragon to wake up? Uh uh, I don't think so. I'll be fine." He flashed a broad grin as though to prove it, and felt it falter a second later as he got a strange, sadly confused glance.  
  
"Sometimes… Your smiles remind me of three dollar bills."  
  
The Arabian was stepping in though the door, and that gaze that sometimes made Duo worry about fingers sorting through the shadowy files in his head was gone. He followed him in under a state of odd silence, watching his friend move over to his large black-draped bed and sit dully there as he paced over to his dresser. Like most of the furniture in this 'den of Duo', it was black. It hadn't started that way, and he remembered the holy hell he'd gotten when Quatre discovered the pretty thing he'd ordered through magazines to surprise him had been thickly covered with the flat color, but it was worth it. His walls remained a startling white contrast, and likewise, the circular rugs that covered his dark hardwood floor at random intervals were this pristine shade. Aside from the piles of knickknacks that cluttered most flat surfaces (everything from bottle caps off drinks that sported sayings he'd liked to fast-food prizes and seashells), posters, and the clothes he was currently pulling out of each drawer and tossing to one side of the observing blonde, that was what the entire room consisted of. Quatre had once told him that walking into his room was like walking into an old black and white photograph. When he'd asked if that was a good or bad thing, the boy had only shaken his head and admitted he wasn't sure. That didn't change the fact that this was the room they huddled in the most when they hung out or needed to talk.  
  
He finished his scrounging by flinging a balled up pair of socks beside the other articles of clothing, then made his way over to his companion. Casually bracing a hand on one of Quatre's shoulders, he reached down and started peeling his shoes and socks off. "So, nothing I can do to make you want to join me?"  
  
Those stormy eyes blinked, then lifted to him, and Duo felt a flicker of anger all over again at the dampness he was witnessing his friend try to hide. "Nope. Sorry. Even if I can't save the dinner I was making, it's still my night to make sure everyone gets fed… Speaking of which, don't you forget to grab something wherever you do go, okay? You're too thin as it is." "Oy! Hey, watch it. You're one to talk, shrimp." As a little finger poked into his side, Duo straightened up with a laugh and batted at him.  
  
"I am not a shrimp. I just haven't hit my growth spurt yet." That defense came like a second nature, and it was hard for the brunette not to burst into laughter.  
  
_Babe, I hate to tell you this, but I think your growth spurt has come and gone. You'll be using that line until you're thirty, and it's not going to change anything._ Instead of sparking Quatre's self righteous crusade on it being 'perfectly normal', he wisely bit his tongue and offered a diplomatic smile of neutrality.  
  
"Besides, me taking off with you would just make things worse. I know you want to leave to give him time to cool down, and I'm not about to go confront him the minute he wakes up either, but maybe if I'm here, he'll come and see me to talk." He sounded so pitifully hopeful, but Duo couldn't help the snort of disbelief that emerged at that suggestion. Quatre scowled at him, then continued. "Or I can wait until he's in his room doing his usual stuff, and I can try to make sure things are okay between us all."  
  
He took a moment to struggle out of his shirt, his braid slinking through the neck hole last like a snake from it's hole, then tossed it into the growing stack of clothing in one corner. He didn't miss the way Quatre's eyes followed it's journey and the way his mouth tightened, and got the idea he'd come back tonight to find that pile gone and his folded clothing outside his door in a basket the next morning. Sitting briefly on the bed, Duo looped a friendly -- Friend. Just a friend. -- arm around Quatre's shoulders and squeezed lightly.  
  
"Kitten… Sometimes, some things aren't meant to be 'okay'. I know you aren't going to like me butting it, but I think you and Heero are one of those things. It's a little like oil and water. You can put the two in a bottle and shake them up to your heart's desire, or until you just keel over and die, but they aren't going to blend. You set it down for a minute, and you'll seem them pull apart. They just don't work together…"  
  
He more felt than heard the breath Quatre drew in and exhaled in a sigh. "Nothing's impossible, Duo. I've got to keep trying. I know… I know you don't always like me being with him, but sometimes he has these moments where he's not like what you guys see, or like how he is in battle. He can be wonderful. And he -does- care about me, I know it. Those little things make all the bad seem like pointless dust. Besides, every relationship has it's bad parts too."  
  
_Yeah, and most peoples' bad parts don't include honestly worrying about their significant other killing someone._ Sticking his lower lip out, he puffed irritably at a chunk of bangs hanging in his eyes. "**Most** of them do, you are right about that. But not all of 'em. And Quatre, if anyone in this world deserves one of those clean relationships, other than little things like your companion leaving the lights on or their shoes in the doorway, I think it's you." So saying, he lifted a hand from his lap and touched the bump that was fluffing out the hair on the back of Quatre's head, watching the boy wince then look at him with a slight pout as he reached up to rub it himself. "You don't need this bullshit." "He doesn't always hit. He just doesn't want to be touched now and then. We all have days like that."  
  
"Sure… But we don't all have days when we started swinging at people for trying. Quatre, getting involved with him is bad enough, but really getting attached is like a legal form of suicide. I mean, he's good at what he does, I won't lie and say he isn't, but he doesn't **do** love. When Heero was born, I swear, some sick prophetic fuck out there was just clapping his hands together in glee and saying 'Hey look; a better way to kill each other! Yay!' It's a living example of the term 'fatal attraction'." He sighed and pushed a hand up through his troublesome hair. "I mean, I can see why you'd want him, because he is kinda cute if you're into that intense 'I'm going to mess you up' type of guy, but he's like a time bomb waiting to go off. I don't want to get caught picking up the pieces of someone I care about."  
  
"Duo…" There was a familiar wounded light building in the darkness of Quatre's eyes.  
  
"I know, I know. I'll shut up. Just… Make me a promise? Tell me you'll think about? I know you don't think anything really bad will ever happen, Kitten, but is it really worth sticking around and seeing if you are right?"  
  
He opened his mouth to state that of course it was worth it, than shut it again. After a few seconds, he nodded slowly and gave the braided male a weak smile. "I'll think about it."  
  
"Thank you." After another of those caring one-armed hugs, he hefted himself up with a grunt, then turned slightly and undid his pants, slipping those off his long legs and kicking them ungracefully towards the other dirty clothes. He heard a sharp breath from behind him and peered over his shoulder, one brow lifted curiously.  
  
"Duo?" He watched the blonde's face twitch and felt a pang of worry when he thought Quatre must be pained from something, then caught the snort of contained laughter. "A-are those… Rainbow colored dancing frogs? With c-cigars?" Quatre blinked, then leaned in closer, plunking at the hem of Duo's boxers then looking up at him and struggling against a grin. "And oh my, top hats?"  
  
He looked down, then slapped his forehead. "I haven't done laundry in a few days, okay? Give me a break."  
  
But that was too much to ask. The blonde was already laying on his back and giggling up a storm, just like a school girl with her friends. He was actually holding his stomach and rolling. "Why in the world would y-you buy _those_ in the first place? They're hideous!!"  
  
He sulked, crossing his arms over his chest and jutting one hip out in mock irritation, and when the blonde peeked open one eye at the silence, he started laughing even harder at the pose.  
  
"They were a present from Hilde, all right? I didn't want to just chuck them, she sometimes asks about that stuff. It's like she's got a sixth sense of something!"  
  
"But to actually -wear- them, Duo? You look so r-r-ridiculous!" One more look at the grinning bad-habit frogs resting over Duo's thighs, and the blonde was a lost cause.  
  
"That's it; I'm never _not_ wearing pants around _you_ again." He turned around and flipped his hair over one shoulder, and began dressing with a snooty sniff to the chuckling Arabian.  
  
Eventually, Quatre's fit of comic hysteria passed. The laughter became chuckles, then tapered to giggles, and by the time Duo had fastened the button of his black vinyl pants against the taught skin of his lower stomach, the blonde was down to just smiling and swiping at his eyes. He still gave him a leery glance that made that smile widen threateningly before he scooped up the shirt beside the other male. After a little swat at him (which Quatre defended with an absent grace that Duo secretly admired), he pulled that over his head. It's hem only came to rest about half way down his stomach and he watched Quatre look down at that worried and begin nibbling those candy pink lips that recently he'd found himself staring at.  
  
"Hey… I'm not going out looking for trouble, so don't even start in on me. I'm sticking to the clean cut clubs tonight, just to be around people and listen to some music. Loud music. I've had more than my fill of excitement tonight with Mr. Personality downstairs."  
  
That head of coin-bright hair came up quickly and Quatre's expression flashed with sheepish acknowledgement at being caught. "Okay. I wasn't going to say you didn't look good, Duo; you look wonderful, if you want to know. Very exotic… Though I liked the time we went out just before Halloween better, when you used that blue eyeliner and some glitter. I just get worried when I think of you out there alone like that. If I can see how nice you look, than other can too… And though I wish it weren't true, people sometimes behave like beasts."  
  
"Yeah, they do." He leaned forward and rumpled those fine locks playfully, inwardly thrilled about the compliments but even more so about Quatre remembering one of their outings fondly. "But I can take care of myself."  
  
"I know… You're very strong, Duo."  
  
That was spoken with a soft sigh that made him lean back to study the once more stormy expression on his friend's face. "Yes. I am… But so are you, Kitten. Maybe some people can't see it, but I know it's there."  
  
He lifted a finger and lightly tapped Quatre's temple, then lowered the same hand and let it rest over the left side of the boy's chest. "Right there, and right here, and I'd rather have someone with those strengths watching my back than ten Perfect Soldiers, or an army of Gundams."  
  
It was the right thing to say; he saw that as soon as Quatre blinked up at him. Duo had just enough time to start on one of his trademark grins before he suddenly found himself with an armful of Arabian. There was a moment of frozen surprise on his part as the boy gave him a tight squeeze then a friendly peck on the cheek (along with a warmly whispered 'thank you, Duo' in his ear that caused him undeniable shivers) , and by the time it ended and he'd decided to let his own arms obey instinct and come to wrap around Quatre, he had already stepped away and started to the door.  
  
The delicate form stopped halfway through the portal, leaning in an unconsciously beautiful way against the frame and bringing one hand up to innocently nibble on it's clean nail. "You be careful tonight, and don't stay out too late? I'll make breakfast tomorrow to make up for tonight's nightmare."  
  
"With that as an offer, I'll be back in a few hours, cutie. You know I love your French toast."  
  
He got another precious smile for his answer, then with a little wave Quatre was padding off down the hall.  
  
-----  
  
It only took him about four minutes after Quatre's departure to get himself done to his satisfaction and slip quietly down the stairs. He started immediately for the freedom beyond the front door, but a soft sound made his feet stop on the plush carpet just behind the deserted couch as though they were made of lead. He **knew** then that he should just ignore it and continue on to the ambrosial amnesia a club could offer him right now (maybe with a shot of JD to help it along), but his body wasn't listening to his mind. Instead, he bent to the side a little and looked in through the kitchen door and into the harsh world beyond.  
  
Heero was still on the floor. Quatre was kneeling next to him, absurdly holding a bowl and a cloth in his hands and looking down at him. The sound had been a sigh of something so close to misery that Duo's heart had seized up. As he watched, the cloth in one hand met the water in the bowl, then came out to run tenderly across Heero's forehead. The brunette was unaffected, and likely would have been even if he had been awake, except perhaps to push the blonde away in irritation just then, but the caring in that simple gesture was a slap to Duo.  
  
The lax face of the boy that somehow held the lovely blonde's heart in his rough and careless hands was. at that moment, the most hateful thing in the world that he could think of. A pile of dogs' droppings, a ten car pile-up with people split into bleeding parts, the smell of a body in the late stages of decomposition in the middle of summer; those were all flowers in comparison to that hideous, horrible and temporarily at peace expression.  
  
The very rise and fall of the chest underneath that predictable green tank top made him tremble in anger. That his hand should lay uncurled and harmlessly unaware against the clean material of Quatre's pants was an affront to some inner law.  
  
He had left the blonde smiling and had thought maybe he had made things better. He could have walked on air tonight if he'd left thinking that, but here he was watching the sadness creep into the sun-touched angel and it was all Heero Yuy's fault. Even unconscious, he tainted Quatre's flawless good nature, brought him down and tried to roll him in the mud of man kinds' fucked up filth, and Duo was sick to the core with it.  
  
Within him, the fury beat like an infected wound. Hatred that came like a storm over the sea, fast and unexpected, pulsed through his limbs like poison. It gathered in his head and throbbed intensely, begging release or destruction, but **some** finality, and soon.  
  
Enough time in that silent living room, undisturbed, and he might have managed to step away for that perilous edge of insanity within him, but that just wasn't meant to be. Before him, he watched as Quatre made another pass of that soft cloth over Heero's face, then moved it aside in order to bend over the other male.  
  
His heart stopped, then began again in a painfully irregular pattern as he watched the lips he'd admired in silence for months, a mouth that in his dreams sometimes fell apart in the sweetest cries of -his- name, now press so gently against Heero's unresponsive ones. In the dark, he witnessed the blonde's eyes close until those thick lashes rested on the pale curve of his cheek like a seraph's and he heard the sniffle that came as Quatre tried now, while it was safe, to love Heero.  
  
Tainted loathing like battery acid sank heavily into his limbs, but it was also what finally got him moving. He backed away from the sickening scene in the kitchen like a movie vampire from garlic, hitting the door quietly with his back, then one hand snaking out to fumble for the cool metal knob. It refused to twist in his hand, and for that second he was sure there was a hell and he was being thrown into it, then his nimble fingers found the nub of the lock. Flicking it, he tried again and was rewarded with a soft puff of cool night air.  
  
Still… His violet eyes, nearly black between his emotions and the natural shadows, didn't leave the sight before him. Like a druggie who knew what he was putting in his veins was death but continued to do so anyways, Duo looked at the person he had come to first like as more than a friend, then lust for, then love, kiss what was in his opinion the most inhuman creature on the face of the earth. He watched it, and this time, the reaction that came didn't slow him down; it recharged him.  
  
When he did turn and slip through the gap he'd created like a wraith, it was with a grin on his face that would have been perfectly at home on the face of a corpse. There was something awful in that baring of teeth and the way his lips wrinkled back from them. Above this 'smile', his eyes glittered like coals drawn straight from hell.


	2. Chapter Two

What he awoke to was the strange feeling of liquid trailing slowly down his forehead, warm and catching in the fine hairs there in a way that was almost soothing, before hitting the side of his head and coming to rest within the cup his ear provided. There, it bothered him, like a persistent fly circling on a sticky day, but before it had felt almost good enough for him to tolerate it.  
  
His dull puzzlement of it's presence was answered a second later when he heard some sound and tensed, then felt the press of material in the spot the liquid had been. It was damp but not wet, and it ran over his skin calmingly. That didn't stop him from bringing a hand up with lightning speed and catching the wrist that held it in a vice-like grip though.  
  
The gasp that followed suit was a familiar one, one he heard sometimes when he was caught off guard and reacted before he could sort through things, but it went unheeded as he opened his eyes then fastened them shut again with a growl of aggravation as the florescent light directly overhead caused pain that hadn't been connected to himself before to erupt into flying sparks within his head.  
  
His throat ached from miles away, but it was his brain that made Heero wish temporarily that he hadn't bothered to wake up. It was a tender thing where now even the light through his closed lids, that red veiny glowing, made him feel on fire. The scrape of someone moving closer over the floor beside him was like dynamite being set off. He'd felt worse, many times before… But he knew why then, he knew and had prepared himself for it and thus was more than accepting to live through the consequences that should follow. As of now, he couldn't explain this agony.  
  
"Heero?" Despite the warning grind of the bones in his wrist under the other boy's restrictive grasp, he'd drawn closer to the brunette as he awoke, his tone colored with concern.  
  
Like the grating voice of god, he heard his name spoken and though he recognized the speaker, he would have done anything to shut him up then.  
  
"Are you okay?" Quatre winced. _No, of course he's not okay, you dolt! You choked your boyfriend into a faint, he dropped onto the floor and probably hurt himself in the process, and you think he's just going to open his eyes, smile and say 'Fine, Quatre, old chap. How about you?'_  
  
It was clear he wasn't going to get the blessed silence to sort this all out for himself unless he responded, so he braced himself, then growled- "No. Will you please shut up?"  
  
_Oh… He's sounds mad._ His shoulders wilted, but he complied without even a timidly whispered response of acceptance. Staring down at the tense face of the brunette, Quatre didn't care about the wrist that was already turning red around the edges of Heero's clenched fingers, or about the fact that he'd knocked over the water bowl with one foot when he'd been startled by him waking up and the dampness was now staining one leg of his pants darker. He just cared about the pain he saw on that face, and about the fact that he had put it there.  
  
They sat together, mute and in thought, for nearly ten minutes.  
  
During that time, Quatre was inwardly berating himself, accepting total blame for this evening (from the dinner being torched to the fight that followed to Heero's bad time coming awake) and wishing that he could go back in time. He wasn't foolish enough to put any real stock in the desire, but if given a second chance, he knew he would have done a lot different. Like saying yes to his boyfriend being playful in the first place. Like moving faster when Duo and he started squabbling. Like maybe trying to move Heero onto the more comfortable surface of the couch before he could have woken on the cold floor.  
  
Heero's thoughts were also on the evening, as he slowly came to remember it. It had started to return because even in his injured state, he had noticed the empty condition of his stomach. He wondered at why he felt hungry, then remembered that it was Quatre making dinner tonight. Things clicked into place nicely from that thought onward. Looking back on it now, the dry irony that this had started because he'd been foolish enough to want the boy he now held captive (or at least to want **part** of him) made him feel queasy. Not that he shouldn't be allowed those moments of physical desire, they were perfectly normal after all, but that it had escalated into this. It would have been a nice interruption before eating, and it would have left him with that faint feeling of weightless comfort he found himself to enjoy after such activities, but **something** had prevented that from happening. Some**one**. Duo.  
  
Mild irritation rapidly became full-fledged rage.  
  
That know-it-all loud mouthed baka had decided to step in and put his nose where it wasn't wanted. He'd even gone so far as to attack him.  
  
Not that all blame could be put onto him, no matter how tempting. Quatre had said no, and he supposed in some distant, uncaring way he could see how that could be misinterpreted. But since when was it Duo's place to protect Quatre? To protect him from absolutely -nothing-? Even accepting that maybe it was understandable the way he'd initially reacted didn't change the fact that Duo had continued to spur it on, like some dog crazed on the scent of blood. He had every right to be angry with the things the American had blurted out.  
  
It hadn't needed to get that far though, now had it? If a certain little blonde had seen fit to open his mouth and explain the situation to his idiotic friend, he wouldn't be laying here on the floor now with a migraine. He would be in his room, working on his computer. He'd be full, satisfied, and perhaps even entertaining the idea of having Quatre curled up against him that night.  
  
But someone had decided to play mute at that crucial point.  
  
That was why he was here now. That was why Duo had continued that strange ranting. That was why he was still picking up the faint scent of disgustingly cindered foods in the air and why his stomach was complaining.  
  
That conclusion settled things greatly for him, though he had to ignore the tiny voice that suggested he wasn't being entirely fair, and bracing himself for the pain, he sat up a moment later.  
  
It only took a second for Quatre to start in.  
  
"Oh! Heero, you shouldn't sit up so quickly! Here let me help y-"  
  
The delicate little hands that flutter over his arm and shoulder were something he couldn't tolerate right now, like questing birds in a storm searching for places to roost. He didn't want the boy anywhere near him, didn't want to be touched, and didn't want that sweet voice to sound in the air like so many shattering champagne glasses.  
  
Without thinking, he snapped an arm sideways towards the fretting youth, and managed to catch Quatre smartly across his lower throat.  
  
His flood of concerned babble didn't diminish; it died. There was the thud of flesh striking flesh, then the slithering sound of cloth sliding across the linoleum as he went skidding a few feet. The thought 'how fair. A wound for a wound' came unwelcome into Heero's mind, then drifted away in the usual guilty/righteous cloud that often followed these collisions.  
  
For a blissful stretch of some fifty-three seconds, Heero just sat up with his eyes closed and that red flesh-light leaking into his consciousness, and listened to the silence around himself. Then came that first harsh gasping breath from behind him.  
  
It brought the guilt back, that pained attempt at continuing an automatic motion of survival… And with it, another surge of annoyance.  
  
This time, Heero tempered the latter.  
  
As the blonde behind him tried to get his body to accept the oxygen it had had no problems with before, Heero slowly hauled himself up to his feet. A few steps, and he'd be out of the kitchen. Maybe he'd go up to his room. Lie down for a while. Think.  
But that was too much to ask, and he knew as soon as that rasping tenor spoke up. "H-heero? Wait. Need to talk…"  
  
Sure they did. They needed to talk; about the blonde's pitiful little dinner, about Duo's stupid grin, and about the aching in his head. It was Quatre's nature to pick and pick at a problem until a simple little thing like spilled milk became the next air strike. Sometimes, he could stand to just sit there and let him work his way through those, because it did pay off. Quatre could think of things none of the others had considered in the ways of missions, potential threats they had missed or new routes to take with less obstacles. He was a brilliant tactician, given enough time; one of the best Heero'd ever known.  
  
However, this wasn't a mission. It wasn't even important. It was Quatre wanting to discuss things that he didn't want to deal with right now. If he wanted to go through the night without shooting something or breaking something, he needed to leave this alone. That wouldn't be happening if he stayed in the kitchen… Or even in the house. Quatre would regain his feet and come searching for him, he was certain of it.  
  
He didn't turn around. "No. We don't. I'm going out."  
  
Quatre couldn't leave it at that though. Almost alarmingly, he heard the sound of the boy making it to his feet (though with several choked breaths of exertion, he noted), and amazingly coming towards him. "We do. We need to talk about what Duo did… And about what you just did. We -need- to talk."  
  
_He's really going to push this tonight. He not going to slip away like he usually would, not going to come bounding back later with this behind us. Duo. It's all Duo's fault. Everything is out of alignment now…_ With growing unease, he was considering the truth of that when one of the Arabian's hands fell lightly on his arm. He looked down slightly to meet the upturned face of the boy that had snuck his way into his schedule, a face that was smeared with tears now, not of sorrow but of lingering pain from his blow, still getting it's color back. The eyes that he admired for always shining with pleasant dreams even in the midst of trials for them were darkened with serious intent now, and it was yet another change he didn't like. It felt like the things he had come to expect and that he had gotten exactly as he'd like it were falling apart.  
  
"Heero," Pale pink lips, with no smile for him now, parted to release his name in a sigh, and though hoarsened, his voice was emerging a bit smoother now. Quatre was going into his speech mode. "He overreacted. A lot. I know you weren't going to do anything… Like **that**, earlier. He didn't, so I don't really blame him, but he still shouldn't have done what he did."  
  
He dragged his eyes up from that mouth, scowling as he observed the lack-luster color in Quatre's eyes. "You didn't say anything to change his opinion of that."  
  
The blonde winced, and he felt a trendle of savage victory for it. He wasn't supposed to feel like a scolded child. He was in charge.  
  
"No… I didn't. I was surprised, and I should have, but I didn't. I apologize for that." The hand on his arm wandered up a few inches, trying comfortingly to form some bound of more intimate communication between them. "I think he knows now though. I can talk to him more about that later… Right now, I want to discuss something else. I know you don't always mean to do it, but Heero, you can't keep striking out at me like this. I care about you, but if this doesn't stop, I won't, **can't**, keep trying to be there for you… You have to learn to control that, or find a way to warn people. I'm not an enemy. It's not a healthy thing for us to-"  
  
_'I won't'._ He heard nothing but low murmurs after that. How many times had he considered just walking away from the blonde's smiles and hugs, away from his bright exclamations? How often had he wanted to pick up the little pieces of Quatre that he continually found in his room, notebooks with that tiny script covering each page, a small casual suit shirt hanging in his closet between the doldrums of his own garb and bits of sweet hard candy waiting on the edge of his desk, and throw them into the hall before they could begin to fit in there? He couldn't remember all the moments when it had sounded like a good idea in spite of the perks. Never, though, had he expected to hear anything similar from the blonde.  
  
There wasn't supposed to be any doubt about waking up, and feeling the heat on the bed beside him because Quatre had snuck in sometime during the night, wanting and needing to be near. And whether he always wanted it there or not, his cheerful form was an expected distraction now. A day when Quatre was out and not hovering nearby felt like existing in one of Duo's sci-fi flicks. During movies, Quatre's hand had to seek his out and cling. It was part of… Well, of The Plan now. That affection was **supposed** to be there. It belonged to him.  
  
Didn't it?  
  
He came back to listening in time to catch the bothersome tail end of the blonde's unhappy speech- "and if you can't, then maybe we should just stop pretending. Can you?"  
  
It didn't matter what Quatre was asking, not really.  
  
It could have been anything, and Heero's answer would have been the same. No. He couldn't. Whatever it was, it was something the Arabian wanted changed, something about him, and it wasn't going to happen.  
  
**He** told people what was to change and stay the same.  
  
That earnest, hopeful face was still lifted to him, cerulean eyes still moving over his expression like tiny fingers trying to pry out secrets. 'Feel with me', Quatre's expression seemed to silently ask, and Heero felt sickened by it. 'Feel with me, and we can go on. It won't be your Plan any more, but sometimes maybe it'll look like it, at least enough that you can be numb, be happy. You'll slowly loose yourself, your will and resistance, in Us. We aren't Quatre any more, or Heero, we are just Us.'  
  
Quatre was still looking at him, now in confusion as he recognized the dawning horror in his boyfriend's dark blue eyes. He reached up to sooth back Heero's chaotic mess of bangs, wanting to read more deeply into those strange dark pools. That gesture was greeted harshly with one of the brunette's hands coming up and slapping his away.  
  
The pained surprise that lit in Quatre's eyes was enough to restart his stunned reasoning. He shoved those little fingers away before they could touch him, then decided that he didn't want to completely let go after all. The hand continued on in it's path to come to rest on the rising and falling contours of the blonde's chest, then pushed.  
  
His eyes narrowed as he watched the boy jerk backwards a few feet and thud into the wall, head rocking bang to thud against the white washed walls of their kitchen then come forward again until Quatre's chin struck his chest bone hollowly. Petite hands clung to the wall on either side of him and searched for purchase there, and it still wasn't enough.  
  
Heero stalked over as his teammate struggled back into control of himself. The loose fist that slammed into the wall less than an inch from the blonde's flushed face was only identifiable as his through skin color. Nothing felt real. When that head pulled sharply up and those incredible eyes locked on his, finally **seeing** him, and he watched with tragic clarity as fear slipped in them for the first time, Heero's stomach clenched sickeningly.  
  
Still, he resisted that reaction, leaning in and pushing his mouth harshly against the quivering lips of his… His hostage.  
  
Before, they might have played rough during some of their encounters, and play was exactly all that it was. Now there was something about that rough kiss that spoke of burning brands and perhaps of signed documents. It was like slamming a flag into the peak of a mountain. It was placing a collar on a pet. Or a child with a black pen scrawling his name on his things.  
  
Quatre felt his lips ram back on his teeth, felt the warm tang of blood come flooding over them and onto his tongue, salty and his own.  
  
He tried to scoot back, away from that stranger's kiss, and was met with the unyielding press of the wall, purposeful and aching against the back of his head. By then, the pain was already leaving though. Heero's lips were still almost cruel against his, seeking the warm recesses of his mouth with the same intensity he took all of his missions on with, but that dull wave of hateful emotion he'd sensed was drifting away.  
  
So he held still. He hung suspended as the brunette relentlessly took what he wanted. He felt that Heero was searching for something. Eventually, the hardness truly started to leave that normally special gesture, and when he felt that, Quatre at last shifted into action. He brought his hands up and laid them over Heero's shoulders, pushing indecisively there before curling in the fabric, accepting him in spite of how it had begun.  
  
Maybe Duo was right, and relationships weren't supposed to work this way, but since when had any of them followed the 'norm'?  
  
But Heero was torn. That fear that had been present had chilled his blood and at the same time, had made it all look like it could be fixed. Quatre hadn't pushed him away and said 'no more'. It could all just… Go on. Had it ever really been his plan though? Or was even the way those fingers now pulled him closer, demanded with cute determination that he be there against that slight body, all part of him vanishing as a self identifiable organism?  
  
Jerking away with a disgusted grunt, he watched Quatre's eyes open in bewilderment as he sank down the wall several inches. His lips were swollen, hurt, and yet the boy looked like he only wanted to reach out and make sure that he was fine.  
  
_Sometimes,_ Heero thought, _they don't get you with orders and with violence. Sometimes they get you with a gentle hand and with eyes that** look** understanding. They control you with kindness. Did I ever really think I manipulated this?  
_  
Quatre was reaching for him, and this time he wouldn't allow himself the mistake of touching that creamy flesh and being pulled in by worried expressions. He snarled at the wandering digits and Quatre pulled them back against his chest quickly, looking frightened but so infinitely patient.  
  
"Heero, we-"  
  
"NO. We don't." He took in a breath, then bore into those wounded orbs of blue and green and ground out- "We -nothing-."  
  
As their tactician's expression crumpled, eyes stung but dry he was relieved to see, Heero turned from him and stalked through the kitchen opening and into the living room, then directly towards the front door. The path only took five seconds to complete, around twenty individual steps, but somehow it felt like an hour. Behind him he could hear the first shaky breath being pulled into Quatre's deceivingly delicate frame, and unbelievably part of him wanted to go back and hold him. He kept walking. The carpet trudged underfoot with the speed of tar, but at last his fingers was around the blessedly cool handle of the door. Quatre never spoke up, never called him back or begged. A simple twist of metal, and he was slipping into the darkness that waited outside.  
  
-----  
  
Heero wasn't one to drive around feeling furious and indecisive. He wasn't one to go out to a bar and drink himself stupid either. Both of those choices were a waste to him, one a waste of gasoline and unnecessary wear on the unassuming but well maintained car he drove, and the other a waste of himself and of his time. When he was upset and he knew it, he would find some more or less isolated place to bunker down as he worked out every last detail of whatever the problem was. Sometimes, it would be just the end of a deserted road, where he'd get out of the car and pace, or more often, find himself sitting on the hood of his car (bad for dents, he knew) holding his head. Other times it was the parking lot of a store that had been closed for hours. That got him in trouble sometimes though. The last thing he needed when he was already pissed was some rookie cop stopping to check things out and shining a bright light in his eyes while snapping out questions. More often than not, it was one of the many public parks around town.  
  
That was where he headed tonight, to his favorite out of the lot of those. The distant thought of a cool bench on the edge of a moonlit duck pond drew him with it's calming fingers even as he continued to sulk behind the wheel of his car and glare at the signs that flashed in his head lights. He wanted to sit, and to work out the events of tonight for better or worse. He was still so angry at Duo's presumptuous behavior, furious at Quatre's tranquility during it and even at him simply accepting that violent kiss after, and now, he was also mad at himself.  
  
In particular, at the way he'd left. A tiny voice within was asking him what he was going to do if he went home and the blonde just ignored him from that moment onward… Another part was praying for that, and saying thank goodness.  
  
Deep in his turbulent storm of thoughts, Heero's training faltered for one of those rare moments, and this time in a way that he would later come to pay for heavily.  
  
As he watched the white lines in the center of the road vanish beneath his hood and respectively under his tires, as he brooded, he failed to notice the presence of a pair of lights within his rearview mirror. No, that wasn't exactly right. He did notice them, but failed to place any thought into them. It was another car out, not so unusual considering that it wasn't late, and they hadn't moved into an extremely small town but rather a budding city. When he turned, he didn't connect the reappearing lights in that reflective surface as the same vehicle, which had in fact been following him since the first street he turned onto. It was an innocent mistake, one that hundreds made daily, and it was one that Heero made now at a great cost. Perhaps, that too, was Quatre's fault.  
  
At last, the park's nearly vacant lot appeared on the left and he pulled into it. As he was already selecting a spot (at least three spots away from any of the other late-night vehicles here), he didn't even look up at the jeep that continued past and down the street.  
  
If he had, he would have seen a familiar face peering out of that familiar mud splattered window, a face that now held no trace of it's typical easy-going grin. It was a pale moon of features that were utterly devoid of any emotion, cold purple fire orbs glaring out of the wane flesh and fixed on him unswayingly.  
  
He didn't though, it was another of those 'little' things that so often made all the difference, and this time it wasn't in his favor.  
  
Heero got out of his car as one of the back lights of the jeep flared red and signaled it was turning left, and as he locked the door with a press of the button that hung from his key chain (sad that one couldn't leave it unlocked even in a park like this now), it vanished down that other street.  
  
Like in the house, his legs didn't walk here; they stalked. He crossed the paved surface with it's scattering of cars rapidly, his lips a tight frown. He slipped into the shadows beneath the man planted trees here the same way.  
  
By the time he'd reached the pond's banks though, his scissoring legs had slowed into something that was almost a casual stroll. The intense and oh-so-specific process of sorting through his problems had already begun. His bulky yellow sneakers remained on the curving concrete path only by luck, his head down and eyes on the ground before him but really fixed on something that existed only within his mind. He neither saw nor heard the couple that was sitting on the first bench he passed, their own faces huddled close together and not one of their hands in public view (soft panting gave clear indication where they were though), and they never looked up. It was that unspoken courtesy and perhaps survival technique that anyone who frequently night cloaked parks knew of.  
  
The second bench he arrived at was more welcoming, it's graffiti drenched boards bare of any late-night squatters. His feet turned towards it without a signal from his mind, and soon he was settling back against the chill material and staring his empty stare out at the glistening black waters.  
  
_'I won't', he said…_ But Heero thought that maybe Quatre would. The blonde was stronger than he was often given credit for. He had fought beside them all through the exact same wars, and he had emerged just as unexplainably unscathed as they. Despite his lovely colorless skin, baby face, and bird-boned frame, he survived, even -thrived- in that setting. It was an injustice to dismiss him now just because the need to fight day in and day out was no longer present.  
  
Quatre had stuck around after that first blow, because he could take it… Because he might have even wanted it, and so was it his fault that he sometimes didn't bother to control those wayward fists?  
  
_No._ If he was out here by himself to work this out, he couldn't lie that way. The Arabian was not still lingering with him because he wanted pain or because he could handle it, he was there for a reason that honestly bothered Heero a lot more. _He cares. About me. He stays, even when I hit him, and it's because he thinks he loves me… And maybe he does. He stays and some part of his mind tells him that I need him. Or maybe, something he sees in my eyes, something I can't hide, tells him that. It doesn't matter. What does, is that he is there through it all, not because of the pain but in spite of it. For those little moments in-between.  
_  
Heero sighed and closed his eyes, tipping his head back and resting it against the sharp edge of the back of his bench. _All those times when I considered just pushing him away for the last time, and it was the moronically sentimental things that convinced me not to, and somehow, I didn't see it was those same things that kept him coming back with a smile. He was hurt when I hit him, and more when I locked my door at night to keep him out… But the glow that lit his eyes when I'd kiss his cheek during a movie, or that real grin that he gave that time I brought him that stupid card, those more than made up for all the hits… Like his smile more than made up for him crowding me once in a while, and how the heat of his body snuggled -- I can't believe someone **snuggled** with me, how absurd -- up against my chest occasionally made it all feel fine.  
_  
_He stays because he has to. I'm getting a normal life out of this, I'm -FEELING- what I never could have before. I know what it's about now, and why people talk and obsess over it so._  
  
_I don't know what he can possibly be getting out of it, but he's operating in much the same way._ A pair of ducks landed in the water a few feet off shore, and Heero's dark eyes drifted a quarter of the way open to watch them scoot gracefully away in a lazy manner. _Whatever it is, until tonight, he was getting it… But he, and I, we fucked up. Because of Duo, at least partially, but it had been brewing.  
_  
And there lay his problem.  
  
Was it better to cut out that wound they both shared now, to cauterize it and slowly push the poison out of their systems before it sickened them? Or was it worth the extra effort to just pull out the bad parts, and to turn that illness into something that might, in the end, heal them both of a disease they didn't really know they had?  
  
Cut out now or tough through it?  
  
He weighed all the memories he had that were really 'him and the blonde', everything from the first time Quatre had pressed hot feverish lips to the side of his mouth and made him tingle from his hair to his toes, to the first curve of those same lips that came even as they were swelling from a blow. He fixed on once picking the blonde up in the kitchen and spinning him in his arms until Quatre had laughed himself breathless, and one the way a cold little nose had once nuzzled itself into Heero's shirt to find warmth when snow had unexpectedly begun to tumble out of the merciless sky on one of there walks… And he considered the flares of anger at finding Quatre's sweater folded neatly in-between the clothing in his drawers, on listening to him worried question where he was on the nights he'd stayed out.  
  
Anger from before drove even now through his veins, begging him to remember the satisfying crush of Duo's throat under his fingers, and demanding that he acknowledge the disbelieving rage of feeling Quatre attack him to help that grinning idiot… But it was being slowly but surely overruled by the strange calm that had come when he'd woken up to that delicate, caring touch. Quatre had hurt him this time, but just like when their positions were switched, he had come back. Now, Heero had left, and he **knew**, without a single doubt, that miles away the Arabian was waiting for him. He'd walk into that door, and Quatre would smile for him again.  
  
A smile wasn't much a thing, just a tiny spasm of the muscle really, but it was what he wanted.  
  
The isolation he'd known for years was over, and there wasn't even a shred of desire for it's return. In the future, there'd be days when he'd doubt his decision, but he would deal with those patiently when they came along, and Quatre would do the same even if they never talked of it. It might not last forever, but Heero wanted it to last another day, and maybe another week or month.  
  
Rising from the bench was like waking from a dream, and for the first time in many days, Heero wore his own gentle smile. It was serene, something his teammate's probably wouldn't have believed, but it was also determined and satisfied. It was beautiful.  
  
On the water the pair of ducks, lovers themselves, watched him turn and start back into the trees with skeptical, stupidly kind black eyes, then they swam over the inky water and towards the kissing bridge that led onto the pond's small island.  
  
The chill of the night was intensified under the shade of the high plant sentinels, and as he passed into their darkness, the brunette crossed his arms over his chest and lightly rubbed at their surface, smooth flesh now disturbed with goosebumps. He followed the path avidly now and was already thinking about the heat of the house, and the comfort of the slender arms that would greet him… And this time they'd be greeted in return.  
  
He could so envision this, that when he turned again on the winding cement safe way, at first the person that stepped out from behind the trunk of a tree (this one, he noted with startling awareness, had initials 'smrs 4eva' it looked like, carved into it's ancient bark) -was- Quatre. He started to open his mouth in greeting, confused but pleased, and then the brown and auburn-shot hair came into view, and so didn't the outfit.  
  
It wasn't Quatre, he was likely at home and waiting just as he'd thought; it was Duo. Alarm didn't come then, even as he observed one lanky arm rise up and saw the flash of cold light reflect off the silencer that covered the barrel of the gun in his hand, it was more a surge of annoyed puzzlement. _What does he want now?  
_  
Duo was grinning again. His 'I'm smooth and I know it, kiss my ass' grin. His eyes were sparkling, and maybe Heero thought briefly that like the think that had been worked out with Quatre, that this too was an attempt at finding a neutral ground.  
  
Just before the end of the gun emitted and soft 'thuumph' sound and spewed forth it's final word, obliterating all real traces of the mind that had, in essence, been Heero Yuy, the boy with the cobalt blue eyes understood. He had time for one last ironic thought before it struck. _I should have turned around and gone back into the kitchen to hold him after all…_  
  
The bullet struck him to the left of the center of the his forehead, it burrowed into his flesh and bone like some hell-bent mole fleeing the sunlight, and then Heero knew no more.  
  
That circle in the smooth skin looked like an eye to him, empty and black. Then blood filled it, bubbled and ran down and into one staring eye. It lingered there, clinging in the corner, then moved on like a tear. It was one of the most unusually beautiful things Duo had ever seen. _He's finally crying, and it's blood.  
_  
As the body sank bonelessly but with amazing grace to the ground just off the path, crushing a small gathering of deep purple violets in it's wake, Duo watched and his grin slowly faded. Heero landed on his side, legs uselessly sprawled and one arm caught under him, and that tear now made it's path sideways towards the parted gap of his mouth. That wasn't pretty any more, and so the braided male turned away in disinterest.  
  
A minute later, he had turned back and knelt beside that crumpled form. His eyes moved blankly over the relaxed and suddenly young face of the boy who had once saved the Queen of the world and prevented war. He dug through the tight pockets of Heero's jeans, and at last emerged with his wallet.  
  
He turned and calmly began his walk out of the park, not to the parking lot which Heero had been heading to, but towards the fence that ran along three sides of the lovely square of green in the middle of a growing city. By the time he had reached it, that blank look had returned, and he had managed to disassemble his gun into a handful of pieces. These were shoved into his pocket along with the leather folds of the dead brunette's wallet.  
  
After a look down both directions of the empty street, Duo scaled the fence with natural grace and flipped himself over and onto the road that lay beyond. It took him only three minutes of walking to reach his jeep which had been parked on a residential side street. Opening the door and boosting himself onto the seat, Duo fell deeper into that perfect sea of completion. He started the car and drove.  
  
Twenty minutes, and the black and mud colored automobile was pulling onto the road that led down by the manmade lake that Quatre and he would sometimes fish at. He parked and walked down to the abandoned shores of it, then out onto the shifting, creaking planks of the dock. Here he remembered the blonde's laughter as Duo had managed to reel in a trout (all stocked, of course, nothing natural har de har) too quickly and ended up slapping himself in the face with it. As he drew his arm back and chucked the barrel of the gun as far as he could into it's unmeasured depths, he was smiling again. Duo returned to his car, and drove on.  
  
The next stop in his mindless trips that night was actually a field on the outskirts of their expanding town. Here, though he doubted Quatre remembered, he had once sat on a blanket with him after a wonderful meal of sandwiches, warm sodas, and fruit, and they had talked about their dreams until the sun had set and it got too cold. He parked beside the wire fence that lined that long grassed terrain, got out, and ducked under it's barrier. It wasn't hard for him to find the exact spot they had once sat, and he sank down there himself now. As Duo looked up at the star overhead, stars that he had once flown through with a mission, he considering the way that his friend's hair had seemed to glow brighter than the sun that day. His fingers absently pulled the ground open and shoved dirt aside as he smiled at the memory of wiping whipped cream off the end of a button nose. The rest of the gun was buried there, an offering to a summer sun and perfect afternoon, than the American was on the move again.  
  
The final delivery of the evening was to a darkened church in what was clearly the 'down' side of town. The jeep slowed to a crawl before this building, then stopped. It's headlights died, but the inside one came on, bathing the young man with the no-expression inside in a sickly yellow life.  
  
He pulled out Heero's wallet and opened it. Thin fingers pulled out the cards (library, grocery market, credit, driver's license) and placed them absently along one black covered thigh. Those would be cut up and pieces scattered through out several trash bins as he made his way finally to the club. The money he pulled out, twenty-three dollars and forty-one cents, would be pushed through the mail slot of the church. Heero carried no pictures, nor had Duo expected any. If he had found one, he might have felt the first real pang of regret.  
  
What he did find only brought a dim spark of anger, and then a sense of gladness that was powerful enough to make his lips pull back in a feral smile. Tucked behind the far-too neatly folded bills of cash was a tightly pressed sheet of lined paper. Duo lifted this out without thought, and dropped the leather remains of the wallet (three days from now, a boy would find this on the side of the road two miles from here, clean it, and present it to his father as a present) onto his lap before carefully pulling it open.  
  
_Heero,  
  
Will you open your lap top tonight and see this resting on it's precious keys and be angry I opened it, or will you read this before that and know I only did it to let you know I was thinking of you? I always am, you know? Sometimes, I find myself frustrated with the way you dwell in my head and come dancing into thoughts at the strangest moments, but mostly that happens and I'm grateful. You'll be back in two days, and I'll be here, but in the time between then, those forty some odd hours, in my dreams you won't have left at all.  
  
Ha, by now you must be scowling down at the paper, one paragraph in, or maybe stopped reading altogether. Too gooey, I bet. It's true though. I'll take you out to dinner when you do come back if you'd like, my treat, and maybe you can tell me about the meeting. Or, if you are too tired for such thing, maybe I can just rub your shoulders and feel you there again… I'm lonely without you already, and as I write this, you are only in the shower preparing to leave. Come back soon, and be careful.  
  
Your Quatre.  
_  
The note was dated more than a month ago, he could read that in the top corner as it shook within his grasp. It was that old, and Heero had kept it for whatever god forsaken reason. The part of Duo that was already beyond gone thought it was because somehow, the brunette had known he would see it now and had put it there as some last revenge, even from beyond the grave. The more rational part, which was fairly completely ignored, knew that it was one of those rare signs that the bastard youth had, at least on some deep subconscious level, cared for the effort Quatre put forth.  
  
Whatever the reason, it stung him now. At first, his pale fingers had moved to the top of the page as though to shred it, but he couldn't do that.  
  
If he had stayed home that night months ago, Quatre would have come to him, like he usually did. If he had spoken up when he'd first walked in and seen Heero's hand stroking **his** blonde's pretty locks, this wouldn't have gotten so far. If he'd just -told- him for once instead of joking, this would have been his sweet note, and it would have been in his wallet only to be pulled out and looked at daily.  
  
The next one that came from those beautiful, childlike fingers** would** be his.  
  
This one, he would keep as a reminder until he got his own. He carefully refolded the long-ago written letter, then slipped it into the back pocket of his own pants.  
  
In the yellow light within the jeep, so like the unforgiving sun that bore down on a dying man in the desert, Duo got to work.  
  
-----  
  
The tall grandfather clock that rested opposite the large TV in their living room (an addition that Wufei had oddly enough insisted on) was chiming out it's melodic song for three o'clock when at last the front door of the team's home opened. Eventually, they would divide up again, go their own ways and build their own futures, but for now the past still lurked around each corner and threatened to overtake them, and it was easier to survive with someone to lean on.  
  
Duo crept in, turning to silently close and lock the door behind him, then moving towards the hall and the nightlight that illuminated it's long corridor. He was tired, and he'd never felt better.  
  
He turned down the hall with a silent whish of hair slapping against his backside, and behind him, the figure he'd disturbed on the couch closed his sleepy emerald eyes and lay back down, his book again forgotten over the tanned planes of his bare chest. Trowa wasn't bothered enough by Duo's late night return from what he presumed was clubbing to get up and trudge to his own room… He would in an hour though, when he dreamed of something with sharp teeth and a manic grin, skeletal hands reaching for him, and thus rolled off onto the floor with a yelp.  
  
The American didn't see him. His destination was the second door from the end, the one with the lamp glow seeping from under it like water.  
  
He approached it with the reverence of someone entering holy ground, his touch on it's imitation gold painted knob like one handling a relic. It was turned without a sound and the door was pushed open a mere inch, Duo shifting until one rich purple eye was plastered to the crack.  
  
With the warm room, there was a dresser decorated with an army of pictures, most featuring beautiful smiling girls with heads of familiar blonde hair. The bedside table was likewise decorated, those the ones here held the same females clustered together, and there was on of an adorably young Quatre clinging worshipfully to the legs of an older brunette. Duo had held Quatre multiple times when the boy would dry over the man in that picture, and he had reassured him and run his fingers over his hair when that earnest face had lifted to his, begging to be told that he had been right, and that maybe that dead father was at last proud. Duo didn't know his father, couldn't care less about ever doing so, but he cared for Quatre's simply because the boy did, and he always nodded and said he thought that Mr. Winner was in fact very proud wherever he was.  
  
The walls were decorated with posters, somewhat plain ones that featured instruments with flowers usually beside them, but still undeniably lovely. Duo's favorite was the one just over Quatre's bed, the violin . A single rose laid over it's strings, and for some reason, that struck the braided male as romantic and sexy. One day, he'd wanted to surprise Quatre by placing one on the instrument that rested respectfully in it's case in one corner right now. There was also a chair against one wall, and beside it a small table that was overburdened with books. Duo liked to read a good story once in a while, but more so, he liked to sit on the end of the bed and watch the Arabian as he sat tucked in that chair, with a tome in his lap, and immersed himself in whatever world was written on it's pages. Sometimes, he wanted to **be** that world, but more often than not he was content just to know he was occasionally in Quatre's.  
  
The bed was really the only thing he was looking at now. Resting against the backboard, propped up on a stack of pillows and with his head tilting to the side in his slumbering state, the boy Duo lived and killed for, rested. In his lap was a book of poems, marked with a piece of ribbon that Duo knew he sometimes would nibble absently on when the reading got particularly good. On the table nearby sat a mostly full mug of cinnamon tea. He couldn't disillusion himself and think that Quatre had fallen asleep waiting for him, he knew better, but Duo wasn't upset.  
  
Like the note, the next time it would be for him.  
  
Of course, **his** Quatre would rarely be forced to wait up for him at all. He would do his very best to get home each night and surround himself with the arms and kisses of the other male. He wasn't stupid enough to make Heero's mistakes.  
  
Part of him yearned to go in and to pull the thick covers up over that slim form, to brush back those flaxen bangs and kiss the half-moon of Quatre's forehead… But he might wake up. That wasn't good, not yet. There would be time for that in the future. Not tomorrow, because there would be much crying and mourning for all of them (he would be sorry for Quatre being unhappy so he knew he'd manage without drawing suspicion), but some day soon.  
  
He settled for blowing a kiss to the sleeping male, then closing the door, crossing the hall to his own room.  
  
Not bothering to flick the switch to the right of the door, Duo trudged through the known mess of his room and towards the bed, shedding his cloths as he went. They fell on the floor and were alone there, since he predicted right and the pile that had been developing a life of it's own in the corner had been pulled out, washed, and placed somewhere to wait for his attention.  
  
His trip to the empty mattress -- _not for long, though_ -- was interrupted only when he pulled the note free of his back pocket. The pants were dropped, the folded paper was not. Duo knelt and felt along blindly under his bed, fingers seeking out the narrow tear in the bedding there, delving inside, and at last emerging with a small black book trapped between them. It's pages, most covered from top to bottom and side to side with messy, nearly unintelligible script went ignored. The hatred that populated one that parchment wasn't for today either, and maybe never would be needed again. The problem that had tainted those narrow pages was gone. Dead.  
  
Killing someone shouldn't affect your relationship. Or at least any of theirs, since none of them could claim to have clean hands (even the boy that was sometimes jokingly called an angel) but in this case, it did. It granted him a key into a life that before had been locked against him. He had a way now, to live again, and he thought the price of one life was more than a fair trade. Besides, like he's told Quatre, Heero wasn't any good for him…  
  
He pushed Heero's letter between the pages around the middle, closed it, then put it back.  
  
Then the boy with the long hair crawled between the cool sheets of his bed, closed his eyes, and drifted away into the all consuming embrace of sleep.  
  
Trowa may have had nightmares that he couldn't remember and wouldn't speak of if he could, not even to his best friend, and Wufei may have awaken once with the words 'Oh gods, what has he done?' stuck within his throat like clots of dead flesh only to tumble back then into a feverish, uneasy sleep, not to remember such a thing the next morning when the policemen's knock of their door awoke them, but Duo slept that wonderful, well deserved sleep that people got after a long day of very satisfying goal completion. His dreams were light, and most were centered around a smile that was like the sun, and eyes that were like the sea after a storm, welcoming, warm, and only for him.  
  
Sometime, in the impenetrable darkness that owned the land just before dawn, Duo rolled over, and he smiled in that sleep. It was an enchanting expression, filled with hopes and dreams, treasures buried deep within the mind that could only come to the surface of that dank, polluted inner well in moments such as unconsciousness.  
  
Tomorrow was going to be a beautiful day. 


End file.
